Polly Solves the Riddler

Part 2

Moving into his body, she takes off her own top and presses her bare breasts against him. He peers down at her, cocking his head to the side, as his mouth parts slowly. He whispers her name again.

"Polly."

She presses a hand down his boxer briefs. His brow furrows; there's no life. His gaze drops away as he tries to pull her hand out, a bit of pink flourishing his cheeks, but she resists and drags her lips across his chin. They kiss deeply when their lips meet. Slowly she drops that movement lower, tracing his abdomen with her tongue till she gets to his waistline.

His breath catches in his throat when she lowers the front of his black boxer briefs and takes him into her mouth. A wet, thick sound that causes her heart to flutter with wings. It's followed by a moan, albeit a low one he seems to cage behind teeth. His flesh hardens fast, but she takes her time. Running nails up and down his stomach as she swirls her tongue until his thighs shake.

She stands, running a hand along her mouth before switching positions with him. Propped on the edge of the work bench, she begins to slide down her underwear. His hands replace hers and she's naked within seconds. He holds his member as he kisses her. He's stalling, running a trembling hand over her breasts and abdomen, never dipping lower. She pulls away, furrowing her brow and questioning with her eyes.

"I've-" he clears his throat, his gaze falling to their lower halves inches apart. "Show me what to do."

Polly bites back I smile, her heart blossoming at his hesitance, at the familiar chink in his armor, at his request to be pushed. She hooks her hand behind his neck, pulling him into a soft kiss, and scoots closer to the edge. His tip presses into her warmth; his body becomes rigid. She pushes his hand away to guide him deeper until he fills her up. A moan bubbles up her throat and breaks upon her lips.

They pool each other in breath but are otherwise silent. Her hands grip his thighs and help him find rhythm. His eyes are closed, but hers are open. She watches the way his eyes behind his lids move erratically. She studies the way his thin lips part every few seconds, a silent moan escaping, before they press back together. Her own eyes try to shut as he's soon in charge, his slow movements catching speed as she lets go and leans back onto her palms. He dips his body into hers and pushes in deeper. As far as he can.

She wants to watch him, but pleasure takes over. She throws her head back and closes her eyes. He kisses her neck and collarbone and jawline, wrapping an arm around her midsection and pulling her closer. He moves faster. Soon he's pulling partially out so he can thrust back in. Roils of pleasure course through her body, making her rigid. Soon an ache of tension that's been building in her lower abdomen threatens to burst.

Clenching her jaw, she forces her eyes open to look at him. He's looking at her.

Their gazes are locked as his pace quickens. His body is shuttering and she actually fears he might fall. She wraps her legs around his abdomen, locking him deep within her. His rough hands grasp at her back and breasts and arms as his hips buck. She watches him climax, his eyes sliding shut and mouth opening in silent ecstasy, before giving into her own. It's strong, powerful enough to cause her body to recoil under the waves. Shocks and tingles.

When it's over, when she has control over her movements, she sighs. All her anger from before has evaporated. She unlocks her legs, and he readjusts himself in his boxer briefs. He slips her underwear back on with shaking fingers, but neither move to separate further. Tinged with sweat, chests heaving and trembling, they remain embraced.

Her chest tightens as she looks at him. He looks almost scared, eyes wide and brow furrowed. She presses her forehead to his and questions.

"Did he hurt you," he asks, his voice small.

She shakes her head, 'no.'

"I'll kill him for taking you."

She doesn't respond.

They're silent again, but the expression remains. She doesn't like it. Pressing her thumbs into his hollowed cheeks, she plants kisses on his nose, forehead, chin - everywhere. They don't alleviate it. She grimaces and thinks about words. Speaking with him doesn't paralyze her like it does with others, but so long of not speaking makes it difficult. A struggle to even remember how to form her mouth around what she hopes to say.

Yet Polly has to say it. If she doesn't, if that expression stays, this moment will be unique, the only of its kind. And she just can't risk that. She needs him like this and every other way she's had him. And she believes--knows he needs her, too.

He begins to close his eyes, but she shakes her head. A deep breath, "I love you."

Edward Nigma's face finally relaxes into a smirk, her smirk.

~~~~~~~
If you enjoyed this idea and would like to see it expanded into a book that can be serialized, please let me know in the comments.
-J